


While the Empty Linger on Uncertain Reality

by myglassisspillingover (orphan_account)



Category: Glee, Looking for Alaska - John Green
Genre: Blaine Friendly, Blangst, F/F, Klaine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/myglassisspillingover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson needs an escape from everything. His family, his sexuality, his rugged past, they all mark him as bad Ohio.  So when his parents decide to send him to Culver Creek, he could not be more excited. But Culver is not all fun and games, its so much more than Blaine ever could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my prologue into my little version of Sadie Hawkins in Season 2 to fit to this story. I really hope you guys like it, and I will be adding Chapter 1 when I can. So if you like it be sure to comment. :)

_Run. Run. RUN_ .

My feet trudged on the concrete, sending jolts of pain up my legs. The pain was a minor, subtle thing, keeping me aware of my living.

 _Come on Blaine_ , my thoughts yelled at me, _you can beat them._

Chest heaving, struggling for air, I curse my short legs and unable body. My head pounded with strain, the homophobic jeers echoed in the background.

"Go fag, but you can't run forever!" One barked.

"Yeah bitch, you deserve this!" Thundered another.

I didn't understand, why do they want to hurt me? Because I simply like another gender? I didn't fall in love with the gender, I fell in love with the person, I fell for him and he didn't reciprocate it. Now everyone knows, Riley left me here to get hurt and beaten, as if I was a random stranger.

I was crying now, at the inevitable truth of it all, he didn't care. He had laughed at me, broken my heart, and now I will have a body to match my torn apart insides. I stopped, tumbling to the ground, I didn't see the point in running anymore.

They fell on me like a pack of dogs, surrounding my small figure. I gasped for air, avoiding my fate for as long as possible. My stomach lurched, the smell of sweat and week-old trash filled my nose, adding to my nausea.

The biggest one picked my up and threw my roughly against the chipping brick wall. Lifting my limp head up to meet his cold, beady eyes, I registered him as Michael Maker, co-captain of the baseball team next to Riley.

"So, Blaine, heard about you trying to make a move on Riley." He said in spite, spitting with every word. I flinched, leering closer to the wall, wishing more than anything I could just sink into it, disappear into an utter oblivion.

I didn't want to acknowledge Michael's question, he already knew what had happened.

"ANSWER ME!" Maker screamed,shaking my flimsy body."I'm asking you a question queer, now answer!"

I whimpered pitifully. Its over, my thoughts told me, done, no point. Michael's fist flashed in my vision, me straight in the noise, the obvious crack was heard as it broke. Pain exploded on my face, and blood came in a relentless flow. I bit my lip to hold back a scream, doubling over before another strike came to my stomach. Michael's shouts barely fought through my pulsing eardrums, as the blows hit me every which way.

"Oh Anderson, where's your Riley now? Huh where?" He teased,"He's gone off not giving a shit whether you live or die. Bet you feel sorry for ever showing you nasty face around here!" The other boys joined in on his banter.

"Little fag."

"Deserves every bit of it."

"Hit him harder Mick!"

Their slang rang in my ears, I could feel my breathing slowing and my heart racing faster than it should be. I saw the glint of silver, a knife, I registered. Michael grinned like the joker, slashing roughly through my skin. My blood was everywhere, shockingly contrasting against my crisp white dress shirt, my head fell on my shoulder, watching blood drip from the tip of my nose onto the dirty concrete.

I came to realization I might die here. I didn't want to die. I still had my whole life ahead of me, rest on high school, a job, a family. I was only a freshman! What did I do to deserve death? I felt the ending shadowing over me.

They say, when life flashes before your eyes, that you see what is important to you, but I felt blind. Nothing struck out for me to remember, is was an empty slate. Present has never held anything worth remembering.

My life was ending, lonely, desolate, without any hope in a dark alleyway in Ohio.

I was certain of my end, then, out of nowhere, I heard sirens off in the distance. Police.

Michaels eyes widened, "Shit we have to run, come guys!" He squawked in panic. They were out of there faster than I had ever seen anyone run before, not looking back, leaving me for dead. I didn't care, I might live. I heard the sirens come to a full stop, outside the alley.

"Help!" I screamed weakly, my voice was fading, I was so dizzy. "Over here, help!" Everything was going, it felt like drowning, I couldn't get enough air. I saw a police officer come over to my alley, and point to me, running over and kneeling by me, shrieking.

I was gasping, coughing, unable to get air. Lungs were suffocating in blood. I forced my eyes open, everyone was rushing around me now, picking me up from the ground and putting me on stretcher. It was so bright, and too many things were happening, I was panicking. I couldn't catch my breath. I hate struggling. I have spent my whole life struggling, fighting for everything.

I was not done.

I wasn't giving up this time.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preview into Blaines life and his family problems. Plus Blaine first impressions on Culver Creek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like:) I will be posting updates on this about once a week so stay tuned and be sure to comment

one-hundred and twenty-nine days before.

 

I spent my last day at home before Culver imagining. 

Thinking of a reality I wished to reach, despite the insoluble nature of it.

 Imagining a life of being happy, but that was always a thing of no competency for me.

 It slips through my fingers, hitting me harshly with the flash of the cold reality the instant of presumed success. 

 You see movies and books with their lovely endings, and spurious views of a simple life, often I wonder why it seems to just be a joke to me. A simple allusion to keep the audience contempt that there is always hope. No one ever wants to see anything that is slightly unhappy, a story without the 'happily ever after', a fairy tail about the real life struggles of the human population that don't have a prince to sweep them off their feet.

 In the narration of my life I don't want any sweetening of it, I want people to see that everyone is not as perfect as they appear. Appearance can be very easily deceived wrong, believe me, eyes do not nearly always tell the truth.

 How about me for example, a 15 year old teenager living in picturesque-small-town Ohio, gay, social neglect, with my down- trodden family problems. You might think I just hate everyone in this town.

  Well truly, I could give less of a shit about everyone living in this godforsaken town.

 I have tried to be biased, to hate the so called 'preps' and 'jocks', but I really think that the whole thing is pointless.

 The whole system of sorting everyone into these so called 'bubbles' is just the most _ridiculous_ thing. It seems that everyone is just too lazy to get to know people, and instead hates them, or separates them. 

 Maybe that is why my social life is so non-existent, because living in Westerville Ohio, I don't even belong to a bubble. My bubble popped, so I'm just residue on the floor, sitting there, while the bubbles mock me with there perpetual existence.

  ........

 Culver Creek Preparatory School in Alabama is the boarding school my parents decided to ship me off this year. 

 Unsurprisingly, Culver looked exactly like every boarding school my parents could scavenge, far-far away from Ohio, so they didn't have to face my existence. 

 Except a few little details. The fact that Culver is an all boys school in the middle of Alabama, with the heat, and cabins, and camping, and hot and sweaty boys...... If you don't understand what I'm getting to here, that was just a perfect description of ' _Brokeback Mountain_ '. 

  I was fine with that, I guess, not like I have a choice.

 My parents honestly just chose Culver because it was the furthest place from here that they could afford. That is not surprising, considering that has been their motive since I could go anywhere without parental supervision. The farther away I am from them, in everyone's opinion, the better. 

 I maybe see my parents a whole of four times a year, between school, and their so called 'business trips'. I remember a time that I used to take these excuses and see them as real, I see now that all they are doing is going anywhere to stay away from me, giving excuses so that they don't look bad in front of their boss.

 After all, no one likes parents who reject their kids. 

 So when my parents walked through the door the night before my departure to Alabama, I expected it not to be for them actually wanting to see me, but to  be able to say that they went.

 With their unexpected arrival, the atmosphere immediately went from the normal state loneliness, to an utter tenseness as thick as frozen jello.

  _How lovely_ , I thought, _we really have such a good connection_.

I wondered if any other families feel like this. The dreadful discomfort and betrayal when your parent walk in the room. 

  I think that my parents noticed the harsh zeal of everything. Or maybe, since they showed up unannounced I was listening to Whiney Houston very loudly and dancing around in the hallway and they saw me so now it very awkward and I'm out of breath. Either it may be,we just said a few drudging 'hellos' and then we parted our ways.

 .........

 After the seeming ages of unpacking, my parent finally decided to come down to make use of this family reunion. My mother started to cook dinner, and my father regretfully sat next to me on the couch. 

 I looked at him, he looked at me. I wish I could say we just have this unspoken communication, like that really close people do, but sadly, that's is really not the case. My father and I just sat there in silence. 

 Not a comforting silence, a very disturbing silence with ' _America's Next Top Mode_ l' blaring loudly in the background.  Just so we are clear, my father is in NO way the type of guy who watches ' _America's Next Top Model_ ', or listens to Whitney Houston for that matter. He is the type of guy who watches _NASCAR_ racing, and says 'proper' twice in a sentence. He is the type of guy who pretends his son is a normal straight boy who likes football and porn, because somehow, in his twisted mind, porn is better than being gay.

 And I can certifiably predict that when your son is watching 'America's Next Top Model' and Heidi says to a girl that she needs to 'put more sequins on that', you can hardly to pretend your son is a normal straight boy. On that note, my father not-so nonchalantly grabbed the remote and immediately changed it to _SportsCenter._

 Thence I had to watch almost an hours worth of  middle aged men talking about other middle aged men, throwing around balls, all hot and sweaty. 

 I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty gay to me.

 Thankfully, a siren of relief sounded from the kitchen doorway, calling us to dinner. Perhaps i may be released from the isolation of our fraudulent fatherly-bonding, but now I have to talk to my mother who, unlike my father, is keen to social interaction. I prepare myself for the worst.

 "So, Blaine,what do you think of your new school?" my mother started, smiling like she has never left. 

 "Its fine" I said stoutly, looking down at my plate.

 "How was this Summer?" 

 "Great." I offered.

 "What about academics?"

 "Stimulating."

 The questions came in an endless flow, as did my morose one liners, until a question caught me.

 "Well...... Umm......" My mother stuttered off. "How is the singing thing going?"

 My stomach clenched tightly, suddenly I wasn't very hungry at all.

 "Its not." I said numbly.

 "What happened?" She inquired.

 I sighed heavily. "Life."

 She frowned in primitive concern, but eventually gave up on talking. 

 Now we were back to the silence once again. I ate my chicken, it was very bland, adding tremendously to the zeal of the room. 

 No one had anything to say, it was just the same as every time, the awkward silence, cowardly questions, the whole melancholy atmosphere of it all. I was tired of it.

 "May I be excus--" I started to ask, getting interrupted by my mother.

 "Do you have you eye on any guys?" She said in a rush.

 My father stopped eating. 

 In shock, I dropped my fork in my slimy green peas, splattering gross juice everywhere.

 Gay is not something you talk about here.

 The night I came out to them was the worst night of my life. Everything changed, my whole life was turned upside down and over. I had hope until then that maybe my parents loved me, it was a faint, naive sliver of hope that was torn to shreds, the second my confession slipped from my lips. He wanted to kick me out, they both did. Wanted me gone forever. I was only 13, and they wanted to kick me out on the streets.

 The only reason I am still staying with here is because of Copper. He showed up and yelled at my father for hours, the argument was the worse I had ever seen. I will never forget having to stay upstairs and just hearing the yelling, the screaming and pounding on the walls. It tore my to pieces.

 Since that night we have never, never talked about being gay. The statement that my mother has just said has broken the number one rule, you don't talk about it. When my grandma died, we didn't talk about it. When Cooper left for LA, we didn't talk about it. After the Sadie Hawkins dance, we didn't talk about it.

 My parents think that if it is not spoken, then it is non-existent.

 I had no plausible way to respond. I wanted to disappear, get away so i don't have to experience this again. 

 A voice broke through my racing train of thoughts.

 "You are excused." My father said gruffly.

 My legs ran faster than my mind, and I was taking the stairs two at a time to reach my room. I realized that was the first thing my father had said to me in almost a year. The magnicallity of everything pushed me to race faster.

 The screaming started before I even touched for my doorknob.

 "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU! YOU KNOW I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT HIS FAGGY BOYFRIEND!" My father thundered.

 My hand clenched tightly, until my fingernails were drawing blood on the thin skin of my hand.

 I walked slowly into my room, trying to hold on to the numbness, until the pain hits. I collapse weakly on the bed and the dreadful feelings rush through, full force. Hurt flooded my every pore of my body, each yell from below like a needle puncturing through my skin.

 I hated that I cared so much.

 No matter how hard I tried, to turn my feelings away, they always struggle through fighting. It was a constant internal battle to just try to keep everything locked up. It was my coping mechanism, just hiding it away in the depths of my being, so it only could arise rarely.

 I wanted out, I couldn't wait for them to leave, to go to school, to do anything but sit and feel miserable.

................

 one-hundred and twenty-eight days before

 Alabama is _hot_.

 No weather that ever touched Ohio could have possibly prepared me for the lurid heat of 15 miles outside Birmingham, Alabama.

 Poring sweat, the sun burning my back, and not to mention the tragic state of my hair due to the humidity. At home, I barely go outside to even go get mail or groceries. 

 With my horrendous hair and lightweight body, unpacking my things was an absolute no-can-do. Once I pitifully managed to get everything out of my mom's Porsche, I was considering just passing out, and skipping the welcoming dinner, they didn't need me, it was fine maybe I could just sleeepp........

 "Is it just me, or are you feeling like you want to die." My mother reflected from the cabin door.

 I bite my lip sitting up from my almost place of rest, the whole ride here she hasn't even said a single word, not about her question last night, or the yelling, or that my father had taken a flight that morning without a word, or place he might be. I don't understand her sudden on and off interest in my life, it has always been that way, I'm was just tired of it.

 The truth was, I didn't want her there. I wanted my mother, someone who cares and loves and nurtures. She does not count, she is just a women. A women that shows up at the worst times, and puts on this preface of a mother, giving me hope so she can hurt me more. It was an endless cycle, she never stayed, she was never going to stay.

 "Can you just leave." I finally said, my voice broke, but I pretended that it didn't.

 I looked up at her, and she didn't look sad. I guess I hoped for her to gave some kind of  remission, just a final reprise that I am her son. But she just looked blank. Her face was passive as she nodded, she felt nothing at her own son telling her to leave. All I wanted was a bit of emotion, even anger. Just something to keep hold of for my naive faith. 

 It felt as if everything was in slow motion. 

 I finally heard the squeal of the Porsche's tires as she drove away.

 .......

 " _Holy s_ _hit!_ I'm going to be so freaking late!" Someone yelled, crashing hazardly through the door. 

 I jumped, falling into a pile of clothes I had been separating, quickly turned around to find my roommate, Noah Puckerman, approximately 10 minutes before the welcome dinner. 

 He was a stocky built muscular boy of about 16 or 17, with a drastic Mohawk running a straight line down the middle of his head, and a seriously wrinkled 'Pink Floyd' t-shirt. I wondered how even managed to get a T-shirt so wrinkled, that must take serious wrinkly skill.

 He was a bit intimidating, people are a bit intimidating to me in general, so I sat there playing with my fingers for a second. Introductions have never been my thing. I don't meet people often, I'm usually avoided, or I try to strike up a conversation and the reply is somewhere along the lines of 'get the hell away.' Then again that was Ohio, what do you expect.

 "Uh.. Hello," I said, standing up and reaching out my sweaty hand out to the boy with my brave face on."I am Blaine Anderson."

 Noah looked my hand for a second and took it, smiling. 

 "Damn, you don't haveta be so tense. " he said with a smirk, shaking my hand jerkily, "I'm Puckerman, Puck for short--."

 Puck-huh. So no Noah.

 "Okay then---------- Puck." I caught myself.

 He laughed,"Its okay kid, you can call me what ever you want." Puck said.

 I nodded, "Okay Puck."

 "So we shall be late together, Blaine and I." He said in a Yoda impression.

 I laughed,"We actually have 10 minutes until we have to be down there." I corrected.

 "Wait.... Why a are you still down here?" Puck inquired.

 "I didn't .....well....I didn't know where the cafeteria was." I said shyly.

 Puck smiled,"Well we better get down there Anderson!" He says, dropping his things on the floor and reaching a hand out to me. I grabbed it and out the door we went.

 Puck laughed and talked about his trip to Alabama on our journey to the cafeteria, occasionally throwing in some facts about Culver. He is a Junior, one year ahead of me. I learned that we have the same English class and both live in Ohio! I mean goddamn what are the odds of meeting a guy from Ohio. But I didn't worry about him being mean, cause he just seemed like a really nice guy.

 It was weird. This guy I had just met five minutes ago, was more friendly to me then anyone had ever met before.

 He continued with his seemingly endless banter and jokes, claiming that I must have a nickname.

 "Dude, Anderson, your part of the group now! Come on, any stupid childhood nicknames, cute little things?"

 I bit the inside of my lip, I really didn't have any childhood nicknames, never had a nickname at all in fact.

 "No, not really." I said.

 He frowned,"Oh..., well I bet Kurt could give you a good one, he is the best at it."

 "Who's Kurt?" I asked curiously.

 "He's a buddy of mine, you will love him." He said, grinning as we walked into the hulking cafeteria.

 (Yes, I must tell you, he was right about me loving Kurt.)

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine begans to really see Culver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, promise to be more on time from now on. I will post a new chapter tommorow since I have been so late.

One-hundred and twenty eight days before

The moment I laid eyes on Kurt Hummel, I wouldn't object to you saying it changed me a bit.

It wasn't 'love at first sight', or a sudden revaluation, it was an instant admiration for his fierce devotion towards being himself, so obliviously to any others looking or judging him.

The first thing I noticed about him was the up-most posture he holds himself, like the world is a pair of Armani shoes, resting neatly in his closet. He holds his head high, chin strutted out, with his hands gently held out in front of him, his posture contorting everyone around him to look his way, he was a gleaming star in a patch of dark, empty sky.

Looking back, I know now where to look for the slight shaking on his hands and soft look in his eyes when he sees something beautiful, the subtle weaknesses he doesn't let many see. Everyone has weaknesses after all, I have always thought it important to know no one is perfect. But looking at him in that moment, on my first day at Culver, I saw him utterly flawless and strong, a blatant picture of everything I wished to be.

I sat next to Puck at the table, a few chairs down from him, ignoring the wailing of Principal Sylvester as she gave her speech, waiting until it was over to mindlessly fill my plate. Incognizant of the world around me, but so sharply aware when the beautiful Kurt Hummel came over and sat in front of me.

"Hello," He addressed me, "my name is Kurt, and I'm guessing you are Puck's new roommate." He smiled stunningly, perfect white teeth gleaming even in the dreadful florescence of the cafeteria.

"Um yes-- hello I'm Blaine." I blurted out in a rush.

"Hi Blaine," He went on, " so where are you from, anywhere in Alabama?"

I played with my hands absentmindedly, taking a deep breath before I started talking. "No, Ohio actually, but I move place to place."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really? We are from Ohio too, well me, Puck, Sam, and my step-brother Finn are. Weird coincidence. So where have you moved to? Anywhere out of the states?"

"Well," I blushed under the intensity of his eyes, " I have just stayed in the states, never been past New York really."

"Oh, well let's hope you can stay here for a while, this place is great, and we would love to adopt you into our strange little family." He glaced around the table, "I bet Puck has even tried to give you a nickname." I nodded.

"Mmmmmmmmmm ....... Puck!"

Puck looked over, " What?"

"Blaine needs a nickname."

"I know, I tried already."

"Hey are you trying to give the new kid a nickname?" A tall boy asked beside Puck.

"Yes Finn, now help." Said Kurt.

Finn nudges the blond boy beside him,"Sam, we are trying to give the new kid a nickname."

"Hmmmmmmm...." Sam wondered.

"How about Blainebo?" Puck grinned, "Blainebo, Bilbo, because of his hobbit like quality's!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, although Puck was extremely serious, "Blaine Devon Anderson do you hereby accept this nickname, to be accepted into our group of Weirdo's from now and foreverrrr." He stretched out forever until he felt it was silent enough to begin again, "to sing show tunes and commit pranks of the highest honor?"

"Yes, I accept."

"So from now to all on, you are known as Blainebo, the magical hobbit boy."

"Yes, and now that you know your name you must know ours," the tall boy said,"I'm Finn aka Frankenteen, this is Sam aka Troutymouth, Puck is the Puckasaurous, and Kurt is Porcelain."

I nodded, stashing their names for later. Finn, Puck, and Sam turned back to their previous conversation, and Kurt looked at me from across the table.

"I hope you will have a good time here," Kurt played carelessly with the food on his plate, "this place is like my second home."

I smiled lightly, "I hope so too."

Truly, right then, hope was enough.  
.......

Going to sleep was a strange event.

My body was tried, but mind rushed at a speed intangible to me.

Today, I had said goodbye to the illusion of a family, moved into a new school, and made friends. Not just one friend, four friends.

Four friends.

It was amazing to me. I had heard about Culver, and hoped, I hoped for a new beginning without depression taking me under.

It was a light at the end of the tunnel, something so far, and yet close enough for you to skim the surface. Close enough to have hope you can break out your restrains and take it. I feel I have almost maybe broken free, but the monsters of my past are still there right behind me, keeping me from it.

Only now I have a few angels behind me too, encouraging me towards my goal, and there has never been those before.

One-hundred and twenty seven days before.

I studied my body in the mirror the morning of my first day.

I was skinny, too skinny, I looked all sunken in and tiny. I was just small in general, and I always caved in on myself. And my hair was all frizz, and lacked its curl in the Alabama humidity.

I studied my horrible scars, the ones from the fights last year, the internal and external. The scar from baseball team freshman year.

I swiped my hand over the word carved jaggedly into my skin, its been almost two years, but it still burns to touch it.

I closed my eyes as gray clouded my vision, my eyes burned and my lungs ached with pain, I clinched my fist and took deep breaths. I knew I couldn't afford anymore of this, last year already left me broken enough. This year is my only chance to pick up the pieces. Everything is riding on my well-being.

I turned on the shower all the way to the hottest, and jumped into the scalding water. I clinched my fists and leaned on the wall, while the water washed my body clean. The gray feeling treaded in and out of focus, I took deep breaths and my self control tested me. Everything spun, it hurt, but I didn't have time for it, I needed to get over it.

 _I had to be strong_.  
.......

"This way." Puck said pulling me toward the first class we shared for the day.

It was the fourth period, and so far I had extremely hard French with Madame Fleur, calculus (ugh....) ,and two classes on history (I do thoroughly enjoy history.) The classes had been quite a bit harder, but everyone is ten times as nicer, so the deal worked out very well for me, I only wish I could be more open to everyone. After years of being closed off, opening up so suddenly is a shocking contrast. I do think I will get better though, again, I hope.

This class was creative writing, which I was really excited for, I loved writing. We sat down at the front and waited for the 'totally awesome' (as Puck described him) Mr. Shue to arrive. And we waited and waited, finally I nudged Puck, "Is he usually this late?" I asked. He shook his head, glaring at a group of guys making spit- balls in the back.

Right on cue, Mr. Shue walked in, not even looking back at the group of guys before announcing himself:

"Now, Mr. Swanson, throw another spitball in my class and you will be in detention for the next month, and then maybe you'll actually learn some discipline and pass this class instead of flunking another year."

I bite my lip, I already liked this guy.

Mr. Shue walked with a steady confidence, his curly brown hair slicked back in waves, with a pair of sharp eyes that looked as if they were about to pierce right through you.

He quickly surveyed the class, "Hello , I am Mr. Shuester and I will be your creative writing teacher for these next six months, so you better get used to me. I know that if you had a choice, a great few of you would not be in this class,*looks at the back, spit ball boys* given this is a mandatory credit if you what to pass, I'm sorry but you have no choice." He grinned at the Swanson boy as he said this, and he blanched. "I always hope for a few people who have passion for my class, and if you are one of those people, I look forward to writing with you."

"Now," he said slipping on a pair of glasses, "get out a pencil and paper, I have a few questions for you."

He waited, leaning against his desk casually, "Okay, I'll start with an easy one." He cleared his throat. "What is the color of the cafeteria floor?"

In the back I saw a few guys look up at the ceiling, like it had never dawned on them to look down at the floor of the cafeteria.

Mr. Shue smiled at the confused looks, getting ready for the second question. "Next, I want you to write down whether you think I am right or left handed." I took a second to analyze what I remembered from when he walked in, then studied his hands, writing down my answer.

"Okay, lastly, I want you to tell me the time the clock is stuck on on the wall behind my desk. No looking Puckerman!" Puck cursed under his breath, grinning. I quickly recollect the number.

"Now trade papers with the person next to you and listen for my answers."

"First off, the floor of the cafeteria is black," He chuckled, whispering snidely under his breath, " _you would think after two years here Swanso_ n...."

"Second, that was a trick question, I am neither right nor left handed I am ambidextrous."

Puck looked at me, "How the hell did you know that?" He whispered. I shrugged heedlessly.

"Lastly the time is 6:45, which I hoped you would have noticed since its only 11 in here." He smiled looking around, "Now did anyone get them all right?"

I blushed at the lack of raised hands, scratching my neck before shakily volunteering my hand up. Mr. Shue saw my hand, both eyebrows raised, "Mr. Anderson, well I cant say I'm surprised, that essay you wrote was amazing, absolutely wonderful."

I wrapped my hands around my waist, and he gave me a smile before moving on to the rest of the class, "The reason for that exercise is to show how many things you don't take notice in life, and how often you look over things you don't see are important, in writing, you don't need to look over things like that. You have to show every little detail, because the writing is never for you, it is for the reader. So show them your world of imagination, every little detail counts."  
........

The rest of the day was quite pleasant.

For lunch, Kurt and I ate together, since the rest of the group were all juniors. And after our classes ended, Kurt told me that we were going to the Pit.

The Pit, as Kurt described it, was the only place in Culver Creek campus that held any kind of TV, gaming station, or even a music player or phone. Kurt told me that once upon a time it was a huge abandoned barn, that a bunch of freshman used to hide there electronics in, so finally Sue just decided to make it into a function able place, since everyone hide everything in there anyway.

The moment I walked in, I immediately understood what Kurt had boasting about on the way there.

There was air conditioning.

The breeze flew out from the rusty vents on the wall, producing an abundance of cool, processed air. Kurt smiled, "I don't think I have seen someone so relieved since I dragged Finn's ass here freshman year."

"Mmmmmmmm" I said, blissed out. "Do we ever have to leave?"

He grinned and the other three boys walked in behind us. "I see Blaine has found the miracle of the only spot in Culver that has air conditioning." Sam commented.

"I'm relieved to see our boy so refreshed, but no stalling!" Puck exclaimed, dragging Finn and Sam by there shoulders. "I have a job to do, got to beat you two at some black ops." They grinned, rushing over to the game station.

Kurt took my hand in his, "Let's go watch." He declared brightly, pulling us toward an empty couch.

We sat down and I was suddenly, very aware of Kurt had not let go of my hand, and did not show any signs that he was going to do so.

Puck and the others played on the game system, skillfully shooting at things on the screen. It was strange watching them, because I had never had a chance to see anything like that before. The way they played together, in sink, effortlessly, was something I, in a way, envied.

I was abruptly confused on why these boys were different, they were nice to me, even though Puck puts on his badass shell, and Finn and Sam play football, and Kurt is confident and proud. I had never had many people be nice to me, much less normal, happy people like these four.

"Blaine." Kurt's voice broke through my thought bubble. I glanced at him, I realized I was shaking. "Blaine, are you okay? He asked.

"I'm just confused." I replied back, avoiding his eyes.

"About what?" He inquired.

"I just--," I struggled for proper words, looking up at Kurt.

He was beautiful, with baby blue eyes and an endless expense of flawless skin. His chestnut hair quaffed perfectly and thin figure covered in designer clothes. The difference between us was a jarring. Him tall and beautiful, me short and curly, with my scars and endless imperfections. I closed my eyes, trying to control myself, only to see gray, panic rushed through me like a tornado.

I couldn't let him see me like this, this cant happen now.

My hand grasped at his for strength, shaking like a leaf.

"Blaine, you need to calm down, your as pale as a ghost. I think your having a panic attack." Kurt soothed. "Take deep breaths, come on, open your eyes." I open them to look in his anxious face. "Now, there is nothing to panic about, I am here, over there Puck, Finn, and Sam are playing their stupid game, and you are safe and nothing is going to happen here."

I nodded, my breath began to slow, panting coming to a stop. "Your okay." Kurt mumbled, keeping my hands in his.

I looked down at my feet, "Thank you."

"Its no problem." He gazed at me, concerned. "Blaine, I hope you know that there is nothing to be scared of here, we will all protect you."

It was confusing, but I decided not to question it anymore. I had friends, people who cared, and that's what I had wanted my entire life.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine has a nightmare, then movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY GLEE DAY!

One hundred and nineteen days before

It was approximately 8 days into my stay at Culver Creek Preparatory School that I had my first nightmare.

_I rushed through the empty corridor, flew through the empty classrooms, ceaselessly dashing forward to my only way out. I could hear their footsteps trailing right behind me, my heart raced uncontrollably._

_I thought Culver Creek was an escape, but I now know the truth._

_Its a trap._

_The plan was to lure me in, make me feel safe and secure, then they would break down my newly formed walls. I know from experience that it hurts so much worse when your tormented by someone you care about._

_So I ran, ran to escape them, but there they were, non the less, right behind me. And the moment I hesitated hungry hands grabbed me, pushing me against the wall of an empty classroom._

_"Hello Blaine, nice to see you." Kurt grinned evilly, planning out his next move. I shuddered against the wall, small and helpless to his strength. Puck, Finn and Sam stood behind him, matching accusing faces looking down on me._

I'm defected _, I thought,_ and they hate me.

_It was inevitable that it would end, that my moment of peace would crash and burn. I was full of so much naive hope, the hope Kurt put in me, and now has the power to rip it clean from my hands. I guarded myself off, cowering against the nipping brick wall._

_But, then I saw something, a small reluctantcy, he looked at me for a moment, and hesitated. Suddenly a cloud shifted, I thought I maybe understood. Maybe it want real, it was a dream, a nightmare, like the phantasms I had last year. The faces were wrong, they were my friends. I struggled against Kurt's--- my mind's--- grasp on me. I fought, and screamed to be released from the horrid vision. No matter my effort I could not escape, I was trapped in a hallucination_

_Abruptly, the hands were not just holding me, they were hitting me, painful strikes to the stomach, blows to my face. Puck got out a knife, the blade wickedly gleaming in the moonlight. I felt a hand graze over my scar, and I howled, out of control._

_"We can give you another to match."_

_Hands shook me, hands hit me, the knife scraped my skin, the lines of materiality and dream faded, then to become more defined._

_I could faintly see something, a way out, I skirmished through the veil, and collapsed back into reality._  
  
.....  
Puck was shaking me.

"Blaine! Blaine! Wake up." He said frantically, I fell limp in his arms, exhausted from my escape. "Blaine? Are you okay?"

I blinked rapidly, recollecting my surroundings. "I'm sorry, I--- it was a bad dream..... I, I will be okay." I said, shaking ballistically, knowing I was far from okay.

Puck let a stuttering breath of relief, "You seriously scared me buddy, you were screaming, and shaking and...... Blaine are you sure you're all right?" I nodded, incapable of words.

Puck crouched by my bedside, hesitating, "Blaine," he started, "is there-- is there something wrong you want to talk to me about?"" He inquired.

My heart jumped in my chest, I wanted to tell him, but I didn't want him to see me damaged.

I wanted to forget my past for a new beginning, but I now know I cant. I felt sick. Memory's flashed in my head, things that could held me breathless in a way no physical infliction could. My stomach lurched, I scrambled out my bed, running to the bathroom. I heaved over the toilet, watching the remains of my dinner leave me.

A heavy silence hung over us.

"You don't have to tell me anything, i just don't want you to feel alone. This is your home now, I dont want you to have to hide."Puck said gently.

I nodded, tears were gathering in my eyes, "I want to tell you, I do, I'm just scared." My voice broke.

He nodded, "Its okay, I promise to not to force you to tell me anything, just know I am always there to talk to." He gave me a thumbs up, and I raised my hand up too, what he had said really meant a lot to me.

I let him help me back to my bed, and I laid down, exhausted. Puck smiled softly, "Goodnight Blaine." I nodded warily, drifting off to a restless sleep.  
.......

"Good morning Blaine!" Kurt piped cheerfully from his seat next to mine in second period, the morning after my relapse. I smiled shyly, I didn't think I would ever get to that kind of affection that early in the morning.

I got out my books for French, while he continually grined at me. "Aren't you gonna ask me why I am so excited?" Kurt enthused.

"Why are you so excited?" I asked, Kurt literally bouncing in his seat.

"Because tonight is movie night!" He rhapsodized."Every Tuesday of the month one group can book the Pit for a movie extravaganza, and somehow Puck managed to get it for tonight, the first Friday of the year and I'm super excited!" He beamed, talking a mile a minute, "be excited! Your cute when your excited!" He proclaimed, and my cheeks started to flame up. Before I could say anything, Madame Fleur walked in and class begun, but I was very distracted.

Kurt just called _me_ cute.  
........

Despite the oddity last night, I could say that my first week at Culver had been quite a success.

It had been normal. No more panic attacks. No bullying. No reoccurring feelings of depression. And that night I was going to have a normal, fun night with my friends.

It was my genuine cloud-9.

I prayed for this to last forever, I wanted to just be normal, an average teenager, to be free of burdens no bigger than late Calculus homework.(although that is a prominent worry, I swear Calculus would be the death of me.)

Once Kurt told me about movie night, I could not wait until the school day ended. A normal, fun night out with friend was something I needed. The whole day seemed to drag laggardly despite my will, even Mr. Shue's writing assignment of the day took more focus than usual. When I walked into my cabin after the end of my last class (which was with Kurt who had miraculously dissipated seconds before the bell rang) the whole gang was there preparing what looked like an abundance of food so large, I didn't doubt it could feed an entire army.

"Hey Blaine," Sam said as I walked into the room, "mind doing the checklist for us?" He tossed me a clipboard and a pen. I smiled weakly, taking it. A flashback of the nightmare clouded my vision, seeing Sam's face glaring at me contemptuously.

I shook myself, getting a grasp on reality, studying the gargantuan list I held."Holy shit." I thought aloud.

Puck turned to me, "I think that is the first time I've ever heard you curse." He said in amazement.

I blushed, avoiding his gaze, "This list is seriously unhealthy, are you guys really gonna eat all this?"

Kurt laughed, walking back into the room with two 24-packs of Mountain Dew, "Come on Blaine, your gonna eat it too!"  
.....  
By the time we got everything out of the cabin and into the Pit, I felt like I was going to collapse.

On top of the unhealthy amount of junk food we brought, we had a mountain of blankets and pillows too, along with an entire suitcase full of other provisions I knew we would never need.

Kurt had everything planned out perfectly, from he proper amount of food each teenage boy needed, to the small details like the seating arrangements. Kurt and I had the big couch whereas Puck, Finn, and Sam all had separate little couches to themselves. According to Kurt, they usually traded with who got the big couch, but since I was added, Kurt offered to share with me.

"Mr. Anderson," Kurt said in fake seriousness before we sat down, "do you solemnly swear to behave hectically, drink too much coffee and politely share this lovely plush couch with me?

He intensely inspected me, "Yes Mr. Hummel I accept willingly to all your conditions." I played along.

We both collapsed on the couch simultaneously, laughing.

To see who got to pick the movie, rolled a dice and let fate have its way, it landing on Finn, who picked some random zombie movie. It was really bloody and gross, but I loved it. Because it was normal.

I ate too much candy, laughed too loud, smiled just enough, and about half way through the movie Puck thought it was a great idea to get out some of this stuff called ambrosia.

Now I dont know if you have ever had Ambrosia, but i do not, under any circumstances, recommend it to even my worst enemies. Ambrosia is an absolutely atrocious beverage, made of one part vodka and four parts milk. Yes I can say, if possible, it tastes even worse than it sounds. And somehow, in the dark of the bloody zombie movie, Puck handed me a cup, which I took willingly. And when the horrendous drink hit my taste buds, I almost lost my lunch for the second time in the same twenty-four hour period.

"What is this!" I called, running over to the sink to spit it out.

Kurt looked at the milk jug in Pucks hands, then rolled his eyes, giving Puck a glare. "Puck are you still making that shit!?" Puck grinned from behind Finn. Kurt looked over at me, explaining. "The disgusting concoction you just experienced is something called Ambrosia, and I do insist to never take a drink from Puck again." He said, sending another piercing glare to Puck.

After that slight bump in the road, we finished watching the movie and then the guys started playing on the X-box. Even though I had no clue what I was doing, they let me play for a while, it was too confusing for me. I shot at the roughly animated characters for a bit, then promptly handed the controller off to Sam, because I am not good at video games. Not to the slightest.

I never felt panicked, or suddenly sad, I was happy. I was content. I sat next to Kurt watching the boys play games until I felt tired, and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.  
......  
"Kurt you need to wake him up." A voice persisted, waking me from my sleep.

"Come on Puckkkkkkkkk, his hair is so fluffy, its like a pillow." Kurt protested from above me. Wait. Above me?

I then I was very aware that I was laying on top of something.

Something very warm.

A body? Yes, a body, a very warm comfortable body I must have rolled over onto in my sleep.

I was laying across the body of Kurt Hummel.

I panicked, leaping off him. "I'm sorry Kurt, sorry, I didn't mean to ,I ,I," I stuttered out.

Kurt's waved his hand at the air, "Its fine, you just fell asleep." He said, completely level headed. I calmed myself, refusing to have a panic attack over something so simple.

"Really," Finn said from across the room, "He was talking about your hair for like twenty minutes."


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for the Halloween Dance, and Kurt and Blaine skip school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was SO fun to write, hope you enjoy. Next update will probably be Tuesday.

one hundred and ten days before.

On the forth of October, when I was editing Puck's paper for Mr. Shue's class, Kurt abruptly walked into our dorm room carrying a giant stack of trashy Halloween cards.

"Boys, I swear by the great Lady Gaga, if Principal Sylvester puts me in charge of another school funded dance ever again I will put half a pound of smashed deep fried burritos in the back of her damn La Car, and let's see how that smells after a day in the Alabama sun!" He exclaimed throwing down the cards in front of us, scattering them hazardously everywhere.

Finn groaned from on the floor with Sam, "This is why I left our dorm room." He said in a not so whisper.

Kurt sent him a glare, turning back to us, "She put you in charge of the dance with out even asking you first?" Puck asks.

"Absolutely, that dreadful women." Kurt sat down on the floor, picking up the colorful cards.

"What dance?" I piped up.

"The Halloween dance," Kurt started to explain, "every year there is a Halloween dance where we dress up and act like idiots, and somehow I always end up in charge of it."

"I'll help you if you want to." I remarked. Kurt gave me a supernova smile, I didn't regret it for a moment offering my assistance. But Puck disagreed.

"Wait, what about the paper you were editing." Puck said from my side.

I rolled my eyes, "Just give me a second."  
............  
"We are skipping school." Kurt says the next morning when i opened the door to his dorm, after the hours we had spent party-planning that night.

My head shaped to look up at him, flabbergasted, "Wha-- we can't just skip school." I had never been late to a class in my entire life, much less skipped school.

"Blaine, we are exhausted, we spent all night party planning for the stupid witch, let's just have a day off." He persisted.

"We, we just can't." I stuttered.

"Come on Blaine! We are young, you only have so long to do stupid things before we are forced into society. Let the empty linger on uncertain reality, we are free and this is what we are doing." He made his speech dilangently, so put-together that I almost felt convinced on it. Almost.

"Kurt, I'm not sure of this." I said as Kurt got his car keys out off the hook. To say I wasn't sure was an understatement as big as Texas.

"We are going to the mall, I need to restock your wardrobe. I'm sorry Blaine, but your fashion leaves a lot to be desired." I blushed, Kurt beamed. "I also packed us a little picnic for the lake near here. I used to go there all the time."

"A lake?" I asked curiously.

"Yes, its very pretty, you will love it." He insisted, not even offering to take no as an answer.  
..........  
I had no idea how extensive fashion was.

When Kurt told me whole new wardrobe, I had thought that he was exaggerating, but Kurt Hummel does not exaggerate about fashion, not to the slightest.

He dragged me through almost twenty different stores, absolutely determined to find me a style. "Blaine." He whined after the first store, "give me something to work with here, you cannot just pick out the exact same T-shirt and jeans every single time." I shrugged. Fashion had honestly never been a priority of mine.

At store eleven we finally hit the jackpot. An assistant came up while Kurt was fussing at me. "Do you need any help styling?" Kurt nodded feverishly.

"Yes, absolutely." He groaned, and the women looked over me and then they started to talk fashion, I am not even going to remotely try to elaborate on that. Anyway, I ended up being dragged through dressing rooms every which way trying on things that they threw at me over the door. Finally, we managed to find enough clothes that fitted, that were stylish, and one pair of jeans that, in the stylists words, 'make my ass look fabulous'.

That you could say, was a shocker. My ass had never been described as fabulous before.  
..........  
For our picnic we ended up a lake about 20 miles from camp. It was beautiful place, just as Kurt had told me. Kurt and I sat right on the edge of the water, close enough to feel the coolness of the water on the tips of our toes when the waves washed on the bank. The sun baked our skin, I was warm, happy, and almost floating with a feeling of utter serenity.

Kurt packed pb&j sandwiches and chips, we ate quietly, and then laid out the bask in the sun, belly's full, and minds content.

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked turning to face him on the warm earth.

He stared at the baby blue sky, the same color of his eyes. "I thought you would appreciate it more than anyone else."

"Why?"

He smiled, "You appreciate beauty in a unique way."

I didnt understand his answer, but I smiled because he chose me to come with him. "How did you find this place?" I asked.

He shifted his vague stare from the sky, looking at the ground. "This guy used to take me here."

"Who?"

"He was my boyfriend."

My stomach kinda shifted, a little fire seemed to blaze up in me, I wondered if it was jealousy. I liked Kurt, more than anyone ever before. I knew I had no chance, but I couldn't control feelings. I knew I always felt too much, too fast."What was he like?" I asked.

"Nice at first, but things changed him. He," he paused, frowning, "he let things change him for the worse."

I nodded, understanding the maximum weight of change. Change is scary, things are scary.

"What do you want to be when you graduate." Kurt asked turning his face towards me.

I thought for a moment, sifting my fingers threw the vibrant grass. "I used to want to be a singer." I said truthfully, because I felt I could trust him, Kurt made me feel safe.

"I wish I could hear you sing, I bet your wonderful." He said.

I smiled, "You don't know, I could be horrible." I replied back feasibly.

"I doubt that," he glowed in the pale sunlight, "your good at everything."

"No, not at all." I said simply.

He shook his head, "Tell what your not good at Mr. Anderson."

I didn't want to tell him that, I knew he was teasing, but it was too much of a reality in this place of dream. "I wanna go for a swim." I declared jumping up from my spot and rushing towards the water, absorbed in blissfulness.

Kurt stood up, "Mr. Spontaneous now aren't you!" Kurt exclaimed, running towards the water after me.

I dove into the water, its contents washing away my thoughts. "Marco." I called over the rushing waves when I surfaced.

"Polo!" Kurt squealed from my right, I turned to him.

"You do realize that we are both fully clothed and you are wearing clothes that cost more than my life." I said smirking at the ruffled site of him.

He looked down at himself like the thought never occurred to him."Oh Mr. Anderson, I am going to kill you and your brilliant scheming mind!"

He swam towards me, and we got caught in a game of swim tag, teasing each other and our swimming talents. The water was refreshing, but the sun began to lower. Kurt and I finally had to put an end to our fun. We came up to land, soaking wet head to toe.

"Blaine Devon Anderson, I take you out of school and show you the best day of your life, and this is how you repay me." He turns his head accusingly towards me, taking off his soaked vest. I smile in spite of my self,but quickly stop, Kurt's eyes widened, he gasped, mouth falling open.

I freeze.

I look to see where my shirt had ridden up, just enough to see the word marked on my skin. I cover myself with my hands hastily, stumbling to the ground, bidding away my scar. Kurt came over and sat next to me.

I saw gray, I haven't in almost a month. I was hyperventilating, Kurt's hands petting my hair. He whispered comforting words into my ear. The darkness caved in on me, but I was quickly approaching the light at the end of the tunnel. I broke through, taking calming breaths until I felt like myself again.

"Oh God, Kurt I am so sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm such a mess, I ruined your day, after you trusted me. I'm so ashamed, you don't deserve this, this is my fault." The words to slipped out unconsciously, everything came tumbling into obliteration. I rocked on my heels, eyes wide in fear.

 _Please don't give up on me,_ my mind honestly begged.

"Blaine, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and you did not ruin my day." Kurt said.

I blinked rapidly, tears blossoming in my eyes despite my protest. "I'm broken." I said numbly.

"No your not, you were just hurt. I promise that I will not ever let you break. You are perfect." He said sifting his hand through my curls."Damn, Blaine, you are perfect."

The tears rested pessimistically in my eyes, refusing to fall away.

"You don't have to tell me what happened, you don't have to ever talk to me again, but I _promise_ to never let anyone hurt you."


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine goes to the Halloween dance.

eighty six days before

I would describe the last few days before the Halloween dance as busy, well terrifyingly chaotic was more like it..

Kurt was still planning, Puck and the boys were trying to get a dates, and I was honestly moping due to the reality that I was never going to be asked.

Culver is great and all, but I knew that it wasn't likely for me to get asked. I wasn't like Kurt, the tall and beautiful Kurt, who has turned down three invitations in the past week. I was Blaine, short and damaged Blaine, very unsociable, and a mess in front of anyone who wasn't Kurt or Puck.

So three days before the dance, when Matthew White, captain of Culvers (truly very horrible) basketball team, came up to me in world history with Kurt, and asked me to the dance, I had no mere idea what to say. I just sat there vacantly, sizing up my situation. My very obvious thought was, what?

In the case dating I could definitely say I was certainly clueless. But thank the heavens, the bell rang, and Mrs. Galloway walked in, signaling the beginning of class. So the guy winked(actual winkage) at me and said:

"Talk to me after class Sweetcheeks."

He called me sweetcheeks.

Holy Shit, you have no idea how out of my element I was. A dance. Last dance I went to ended with me in the hospital. I had no idea what I was going to say to Matthew after class, so I wrote frantically to Kurt.

 _HELP_!

(Kurt smiled writing back) hmmmm B? Why do you need my assistance?

_Kurt. This is serious. I have no idea what to do._

Do you want to go to the dance with anyone?

_I was going with you and the guys._

Let me rephrase that, do you want to go to the dance with Matthew White?

_Maybe, I don't know._

Bllllaine, if you want to go to the dance with him, we totally support you, I bet Puck will even throw another dance in the celebration of your date!

_Am I that pathetic?_

Not pathetic, *cute*

(blushing) I _do want to go with him._

Then tell him that.

_I'm not good with words in front of people._

Your good with words with me.

_That's not the same, your Kurt._

Consider my honored.

 _Okay_ , *honored*

(Kurt rolled his eyes.) BLAINE, ENOUGH. YOU ARE GOING TO TELL THIS GUY YOU ARE GOING TO THE DANCE WITH HIM AND YOU WILL HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME AND EAT HORRIBLE COOKIES.

_There is no such thing as horrible cookies._

Avoiding reality again with cookie debate.

_Okay yes, I will tell him yes._

Good luck:)

We put up the note, and I watched Mrs. Galloway blankly until the end of class.

Then Matthew walked up to me and I accepted his invitation.

.....................

The night of the Halloween ball I freaked out.( I know, what a shocker.)

"You look awesome Blaine." Kurt said as I paced around the cabin. My shoes were boots of Kurt's, knee high boots, paired with very tight pants, seriously tight pants. Matthew decided that we should go as cheesy vampires, resulting in my cape and provocative outfit Kurt (barely) squeezed me in, although I didn't find this very cheesy. I felt kinda ridiculous.

"Theses feeeel wierrd." I said, trying to talk around my fangs.

He laughed, rolling his eyes, "You can take them out whenever you talk, they are just for looks." He adjusted my cape, and ran his hand over my hair. He had put an unhealthy abundance of gel in my curls, making a gel helmet to tame my normal not-so vampirey bush. I touched it a bit self-consciously, it was awfully hard, and a bit sticky.

Kurt swatted my hand away, "Don't mess it up! You know how hard that was to put in? I swear there were certain species living in there!" I grinned at his usual behavior, sitting down on Kurt's bed to rest my feet.

I was freaking out.

"Kurt, " I started, pulling my knees up to my chest,"I'm afraid I'm gonna mess this up."

He smiled softly, taking my hand, "Don't worry about it. You look hot. You will be wonderful, you are wonderful, this date is going to be wonderful. He is going to come and get you at the cabin, around 9, and your going to go to the dance, and dance all night, and drink the punch Puck is inevitably going to spike. And talk with me and all the guys, and Matthew is gonna show you off to his friends and you are going to have the best time, because that is what you deserve Blaine." He shook his head, "Damn, you deserve a fucking castle and a prince charming."

I wanted my prince charming, but I knew that my prince charming wasn't Matthew.

That was the problem, I wasn't afraid of things messing up things with Matthew, I was afraid to lose that, lose Kurt.

Because my Prince Charming was Kurt.  
..........

Matthew showed up at the door of the cabin at approximately 8:55 pm, five minutes before the official start of the dance.

He looked very pale and vampirey.

"You look terrifying." He said with a smirk, his eyes wandered up and down my body, giving a wolf-whistle.

"You look terrifying as well." I said, blushing.

He grabbed my hand and we headed down together in a comfortable silence.

It was strange to me, like always, the absurd normalcy of it. Normal is not normal for me, so I was glad for my piece of this uniqueness. I will never be able to stress enough the importance of having something be normal.

We strolled down the dim-lite hallway, and Matthew opened the gym door for me to walk in.

The sight that greeted me was astonishing.

I knew Kurt was in charge of decorating committee, so I obviously prepared for it to look good, but I had no idea just how good, it was absolutely beautiful. The room had been transformed to a spine-chilling wonderland.

Spiderwebs draped on the walls in perfect placement, floating candles hung dramatically from the ceiling, while reruns of the twilight zone projected on the far wall. Kurt truly did a magnificent job.

I tore my gaze from the marvelous view, and saw him and the others over by the punch bowl, talking festively. There was longing to go over there, but Matthew spoke up instead.

"Do you want to dance?" He asked.

I awkwardly shifted on my feet, not sure what to do next, considering my not so pleasant past experience with dances,"I don't know how to dance." I said.

He rolled his eyes, "Everyone knows how to dance." He pulled me from my standstill to the dance floor without any more debate.

We danced and laughed and he introduced me to his friends,

and I pretended he was Kurt.

I felt bad about it, really, I did, well a little. I couldn't be with Kurt, but I could still imagine, imagining was always what I did best.

I introduced Matthew to the guys and Kurt after a bit, over at the (spiked by the one and only Noah Puckerman) punchbowl. I didn't drink any, but Matthew started to, and I didn't mind, truthfully I didn't even notice. I was watching the dazzling Kurt Hummel dance with a freshman in his pirate costume. He looked out of character, and rugged and like the dazzling star I saw everyday since my arrival at Culver.

......

"Come on let's get out of here." Said Matthew, after dancing around for a bit, we were one of the view groups still on the dance floor, most everyone else had left.

"Okay, where are we going?" I asked innocently. He laughed pulling me through the scattered crowd.

"You will see." He said, and I went along. He pulled me to the back of the school, where it was quiet.

I frowned, "What are we doing here?" I asked. Matthew grinned pushing me up against the wall. I froze, confused.

Matthews hands grabbed my hips and help me tightly, too tightly. He leaned in and started kissing me, hungry ravishing kisses, I tried to push him away, but I was too weak.

I didn't have time to think he had just stolen my first kiss.

"Stop, Matthew, please stop." I said when he released my mouth. I struggled against his hold, panic gripping my insides. "I don't want this."

He held on tighter, "Yeah you do. Come on, let's just have some fun!" I could smell the alcohol on his breath, I cringed. I did not realize just how much he had drank. His hand lazily traced down my stomach. My breath sharpened, I thrashed against his holds.

I wanted to scream, but my voice escaped me. He kissed up my neck, hands roaming my body as I tried to relieve from his hold. A hand sat low down on my back, reaching to skim under my pants, I thrashed harder, tears on edge. I screamed, finally grasping my voice. Matthew shoved his hand over my mouth and kicked me in the shin. "I swear to god Anderson, you better not freaking scream again." He threatened.

He ran his hand down, unlatching the button on my pants. I sobbed, refusing to be a victim, pushing him away.

I saw no escape, I pretended it was a nightmare, it was my worst nightmare.

I remember just thinking, _why me?_ Over and over, _why me? Why me?_

Then a voice broke through.

"Blaine!" It screamed, feet dashed over to where Matthew had a hold on me. Matthew letting go, running away before Puck could catch him.  
.........

Puck carried to Kurt's cabin and called Kurt to come, he went outside when Kurt arrived and told him what happened. I heard most of it. Puck was talking trepidly, and Kurt started yelling.

Kurt came in and laid down in his bed with me, Puck left eventually. I felt numb.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked, he was petting my hair like the day at the lake, I flinched at his touch, and I wished I hadn't. He pulled away, but I leaned back into his touch, I needed it to stay anchored.

I didn't want to talk about it, all I wanted was to feel normal, and not freak out, and go on a normal date, and just have a life without fear.

In was so tired of being scared.

Kurt put his arms around me, and I put my arms around him, holding on for dear life, dry of tears.

I was always unable to cry, seemed that every time I would get close, my body would retaliate.

I wanted to tell Kurt everything, not just about tonight, but about my past, my family, me loving him, but I couldn't just yet. I knew someday that I could.

So I held out for someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next will be up before Saturday, comments and kudos are wonderful encouragement:)


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving with the Hudson-Hummels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bitch to write, oh well. kurts POV to spice it up. Now read on my darlings.

The next three weeks after the dance seemed to be at a standstill.

The three weeks after that night, the gray clouded my vision off and on, threatening to completely submerge me.

Those weeks were a period of avoidance, no one mentioned Matthew getting kicked out, my sudden closed off-ness, or how I would eat my lunch in the bathroom because is didn't want to face people. I avoided everything related to any social interaction, spent the majority of my time in the library, and I started writing.

The writing was a release, a release of all the worlds I wished to say but never got out. I wrote letters, to Kurt, to Puck, to Mr. Shue, I wrote to the people the things I could never admit to them, but it felt good to have hope that one day I maybe could. I was constantly writing them, in the middle of class, during any breaks I could get, and so I had an entire backpack full of scribbles by the end of that three week period.

It was after those three weeks that I finally began to feel okay again. Not perfect, but decent. I would tell you more about those three weeks, but I like to forget them, its easier to just pretend they don't exist.

I still wrote the letters, and continued that for a long time after, but I felt less gray.

Sixty-five days before

It was Thanksgiving and Kurt and Finn's parents were coming to visit from Ohio, allowing Puck, Sam, and I to stay with them.

We all sat outside on the concrete, waiting for the Hudson-Hummel parents to come pick us up.

There was about twenty kids pandered around us, Puck, Finn and Sam tossed a football back and forth, while Kurt rambled on about a new trend he saw in Vogue. I sat criss-cross-applesauce on the hard ground, journal laying open in my lap, I would occasionally write something down Kurt would say that was interesting or funny, so I could look at it later. That has been my habit for these past few weeks, you always forget how important words are, they mold our minds in ways no other weapon ever could.

It was in the middle of Kurt's debate on leather vs. other animal skins that the Hudson-Hummel mobile pulled up, and everyone rushed to the car.

I lingered back, picking up the guys football and Kurt's magazine off the ground. I didn't know what to expect from Kurt's dad. Kurt told me how supportive he was, but my past experiences with parents held no happy memories. I peeked between the mass of bodies surrounding the parents, and caught sight of them.

Burt Hummel looked like any other stereotypical Ohio dad, except for one thing, the absolute look of appreciation and utter proudness that he directed at Kurt was something I knew was not normal.

I envied that, I loved Kurt, and I knew he deserved it, but it could stop me from wanting it so badly.

I played with the hem of my shirt, I wasn't the best at conversation, as I have ultimately proved. I looked up to meet Kurt's eyes, he nudged my shoulder. "This is Blaine." He announced to his parents.

I hate meeting new people, I always felt like that the second a person laid eyes on you they instantly made a judgment. First impressions, no matter how much I with they wouldn't be, were always very important to me.

I smiled as best I could at the pair, "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Hummel." I greeted, I wasn't certain whether I should extend my hand or anything, so I just stood there.

Mr. Hummel grinned, chuckling. "You don't have to call me Mr., just call me Burt." He said, roughly of shaking my shoulder.

I blushed, and decided that that went well.  
.......  
The Fair was in town, so we decided to go that night.

We all stepped out of the rented station wagon and headed on into the unsculpting crowd. I was very excited about the Fair, I had seen them in movies, and drove by them while they were in cession, but never been to one. I had never anyone to go with, to tell you the truth.

Once we were allowed in, Kurt started pulling me through every ride, I swear he bought a hundred tickets. We got cotton candy, watched a clown preform and shared a funnel cake.

It was perfect, it was _normal_.

The Hummel's all walked with such a grace of normality, so content, even the add ons like Puck and Sam, fit in so well. I was so happy I was out of my mind.

We even rode the merry-go-round, took it all the way to the top. I was in it with Puck, and he kept threatening to throw me over.

"Look at that drop Anderson." He said. Shaking the car with his weight. It squealed and buckled and Puck laughed histericaly.

I enjoyed every minute of it.  
...............  
 **KURT'S POV**

"So Blaine seems nice." My dad commented as we washed the dishes after our meal that night.

The TV blared in the background, Finn had put on some horror movie when we got back from the Fair, and all the guys were watching it.

I dried plates as he handed them to me, "Yes, he is one of the nicest people I've ever met." I said honestly.

"Hmm.." He said, going back to his dishwashing. "You act differently around him than your other friends."

I frowned, giving him an accusing look. "What does that mean?"

"You're just so Happy around him."

"Am I usually sad?" I asked.

My dad frowned, "No you just have been smiling a lot more, that kinda stuff."

I thought for a second, Was I acting differently? Maybe I had a spent so much time around Blaine that he changed me. "I just like when he is happy," i decided to say, "he's had a hard life."

"Like how? Gay bashing and stuff?" He finished off the dishes, drying his hands and leaning back against the counter.

I shivered, remembering Blaine's scar, "Worst, some people really hurt him." I tossed my towel down in the sink.

"Bastards." He muttered.

I grinned, I really loved my dad, he was the picture of everything I could have wished for. "Now...... Let's go watch that movie!" I said happily, taking my dad's hand and skipping to the living room.

We sat and watched the movie, and I took notice again of Blaine's happiness, and prayed that it would last,

....

The rich smell of thick spices wafted gracefully into the sitting room, filling our noses full of wonder. My dad was watching the Thanksgiving game, whooping and whirling when a good play was made, with Sam, Puck, and Finn in chorus.

I sat on the couch next to Blaine, he was writing in his notebook again, scribbling away promptly on the pages. He wrote one last note, then closed the book, tucking it neatly under his bottom. He caught me looking and smiled, "Not spying are you?" He asked teasingly.

I sighed dramatically, "Well if only you would tell me what you were writing....."

"Nothing, just little scribbles, " he said, avoiding it again.

I didn't feel like putting up an argument, he always avoided the question. He had been writing non-stop for the past few weeks, and he absolutely refused to tell me about it.

I focused on the bright side, him right now, the sparkle in his eye, and his blushed smile. And my focusing suddenly, to my realization, became staring. Blaine didn't notice though, he was watching the football game, and he leaned over to me, "I don't understand a single thing about this game." He whispered.

I fought back a smile, "Your not the only one." Dad hollered from the chair next to us, Blaine jumped. I rolled my eyes, "on the other hand he is very passionate about Football." I said.

"I like when people are passionate about things, " he said, "like you with fashion, and Puck with extreme sports."

I laughed, "And you with books."

He beamed, " _Books_." He said lovingly, his eyelids fluttering as he fell on his side. "Books." He swooned.

I liked when he was passionate about things.

..........

The boys were restless for the food, and when it was finally done, we all sat down, and feasted.

There was small talk and jokes, and tons of deliciousness and stories from home. Blaine sat in the middle of me and Carole, and they sat conversing over something passionately. Finn and Puck ate the food as fast as it could be shoveled on their plates. And Dad was telling Sam about how he had dinner that weekend with his parents when he struck up a question to Blaine.

"So Blaine, where is your family this Thanksgiving?"

Blaine visibly tensed, although he tried to hide it. "There somewhere in Ohio I suspect." He said.

Burt raised his eyebrows, "So you lived in Ohio too?" He asked, "Kurt failed to mention that. Maybe I could meet your parents sometime."

I didn't mention it for a _reason_.

There was a stubble flash of panic in Blaine's eyes."Uhh... Well they are not very sociable." He said quickly, breaking eye contact.

I recognized how tense he was, the smile had left his face. I sent my father a look, _Don't you dare say any more_. I silently warned. He frowned in fatherly concern, but dropped the conversation.

I glaced at Blaine to see him just playing with the food on his plate. He never ate when he was like this. I scrabbled under the table to reach his hand, clasping it tightly in mine. His eyes met mine, I kept I contact, holding his hand and his gaze for dear life. "You're safe." I stated simply. He nodded, and I hoped with all my heart he understood.

Later we sat down and Blaine helped me pick a movie. He picked Lion King and we all spread out on the floor with our blankets and pillows. He sat next me in the darkness and laughed and I sang and I kept seeing him just stare around in wonderment.

After the closing number he leaned over to me, "I have never seen that movie before." He smiled, it was a kinda sad sort of smile, but the way he looked at me right then, long lashes and golden hazle eyes, he was _beautiful_. And somehow, at that moment my heart broke a little.

I didn't even notice until later the slip of paper he put in my pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lateness, I will strive to be more prompt from now on. I am just going to blame it on school, cause I gotta be doing twenty extracurriculars.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troubles arise at camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fun one to write. Have fun reading! More Kurts POV.

 Fifty four days before

I was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic at Culver.

I had always spent so much time by myself, my parents were never there, Cooper didn't care, and I didn't ever have any friends, so it became a habit it spend the majority of my time alone. And Culver was anything but calm, there was so many people, so many things going on. I was getting a bit overwhelmed.

So, on the 2nd of December I sat alone on the rocky shore of Culver's little lake, just watching the clouds as they floated by. It was immensely peaceful. Gave me time to just recollect my thoughts.

I ended up just sitting for a while, then writing a few letters, one to Kurt, and one to Puck. I was about thirty minutes into my cloud watching/writing when Kurt came out of nowhere and sat in the compact nest I made in the rocks. He looked at me for a moment, he had something in his hands, a quaint package wrapped in newspaper, tied with a simple yellow ribbon. He handed it to me,

"Open it." He said.

I picked up my present and looked at it, I didn't know how to comprehend it. Presents were a rare thing for me. I always loved things that were personalized. _Why was he giving me this? Why now_?

I went on with out the questions being answered. I carefully started pealing back the paper, attempting not to tear it up, Kurt rolled his eyes and tore it all off at once.

Before my laid a book, a brand new copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_ , one of my favorite novels.

I stroked my hand over the gleaming black leather cover, the gold writing on it gleaming in the sunlight. It was perfect. I stared at it in awe, it was for me.

"Do you like it? I didn't know what to get you. I have always loved the book and I know you love it. I know its not much bu---"

"I love it." I cut him off, clutching the book to my chest. "What is this for?" I asked, not able to take my eyes off my present.

Kurt sifted his hand through mine, holding it tightly, "This." He said emphasizing to our connected hands."Its a thank you for being my friend."

I then started crying, I didn't realize it for a second, and was startled. I was actually very happy, just kinda shocked.

Very, very happy though.

Kurt reached over and wiped a tear off my cheek. He stared at the droplet on his thumb, grabbing my hand. "Blaine, don't cry." He held my hand tight.

I couldn't help it, I was crying, not just a little, hot, fast, tears. I leaned my face into Kurt's chest, and a sob broke through my walls, shaking my whole body. My heart pounded a mile a minute and Kurt held me in his arms. I cried until my chest hurt, until I couldn't breath and the sun set. I finally pulled away from Kurt, gazing up at him, the moon cast shadows on his face, highlighting his high cheekbones and long lashes. He was so beautiful. God, in that moment I swear, he looked so damn beautiful.

"Thank you so much," I said, unable to convey the sheer magnitude of happiness he just gave me. "I'm sorry I cried, I was just..., I was just surprised, but happy."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Kurt declared, pulling me over close to him. We just laid there for a while, staring up at the night sky. It was a few hours before we finally went back to our rooms, lazily walking hand-in-hand down the river line.

I laid in my bed that night, reading until unconsciousness finally took me under.  
........  
"Hey! Man! Wait up!" Puck yelled down the corridor on my way to math.

I stopped, waiting for him to catch up to me. "Hmmm?" I asked, sifting through my papers for my next class.

Puck smiled deviously, looking around to see if anyone is listening. "Meet me down by the lake during lunch, I need to talk to you."

I hesitated, but went along. What harm could it do?  
..........  
Approaching the lake during my lunch period I caught sight of Puck, casually leaning against a tree in his Sex Pistols t-shirt, surrounded by food.

He sat down when I walked up, grinning and rubbing his hands together. "Now we can eat." he said, jestering for me to sit down. Puck had gathered quite a feast, consisting of an unhealthy amount of bufriedos (deep fried burritos), a large stash of candy, and a few dozen juice boxes.

I dropped down on the ground, taking a burrito and juice box. "So why did you call me here today?" I inquired, gnawing on the edge of my burrito.

"Well Blaine," Puck said, swallowing the last bit of his burrito, "there is no easy way to approach this." He splayed his hands out in front of him, staring at me intensely.

I frowned, "What?"

Puck looked me over, dusting his fingers on his jeans. "Blaine, do you like Kurt?"

Oh shit, my mind raced, shitshtshitshityyyy shit.

How did Puck know? Was I that obvious? I had always kept my feeling on check, always was so careful. I never stared at Kurt too long (though I wanted to), never held his hand in front of tons of people (though I wanted to), or said anything that could be taken out of context (though I wanted to). I was the perfect with hiding my feelings.

Or at least I thought.....

By the look on Puck's face I knew he already knew the answer.

"You can't tell anyone." I said sternly.

Puck pumped his fist in the air, "I knew it! You wanna piece of Hummel!"

I blushed violently, "Puck, I'm not kidding you cannot tell him."

He rolled his eyes, "Oh, I prooooomise," he jumped up from his place on the ground, grabbing me in a headlock.

I struggled to get him to release, shaking with laughter. "Puck--oh haha- puck-heaha- Puck let me- haaa- Puck let me go!" I persisted.

I found kidding around like this fun sometimes, but if Puck wanted someone to roughhouse with, his best bet was Finn. I struggled, and finally managed to break free, almost landing ass-backward into a pound of deep fried burritos.

I dodged the pile and fell back on the ground by the tree, struggling to catch my breath. I looked up at Puck, the devious smile was back on his face. "You can't tell him." I said again, keeping my gaze unfeasibly on him.

"But you like him, you can't just keep it to yourself forever."

I shook my head. "I cannot risk it, he is one of the best friends I've ever had."

"Blaine," Puck's tone changed, "Kurt has been through a lot, and I know you have too. He was bashed for being gay in our old high school, that is why we left. That is the reason all of us left. We all were the underdogs, Kurt being gay, Sam was homeless, Finn always felt stupid, me. My Dad left my family when he found my mom was pregnant, and knocked up several other ladies on the way out. We all felt wrong in Ohio. I know you felt wrong there too, and I know that Kurt understands, and would never stop being your friend. We will all be here, we are not going anywhere."

The seriousness with Puck said it was mind-blowing. I leaned against the back of the tree, taking it in.

I knew Kurt had some bullying, although I couldn't imagine anyone seeing him as anything less than perfect. Puck was a whole different story, he and never told me anything about his personal life.

"I'm sorry about your dad." I finally said.

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine, believe me its not even close to giving me nightmares like you. Plus, the experience has helped me tremendously when dealing with jackasses."

I smiled, laughing. But I knew how much it hurt for a parent to not be there.

We both just sat there for a while, in silence. I was missing the beginning of 6th period, but I didn't care. I was full, and acceptingly at peace. It was almost an hour before I finally broke the silence.

"One day." I said.

Puck glaced down from his glare at the sky, "What?"

"One day I will tell Kurt."

"Promise?"

"Promise."  
........  
 **KURT'S POV**

I was at the door of Blaine's cabin when I heard the yelling.

Blaine's voice shook the room,"No! Coop, you can't let them send me away!" I peeked through the door. He held his phone is his hands, clutching it tightly, he leaned against the wall, his face twisted in anger.

I heard the voice on the other end yell something back and Blaine winced. "I am fine, they can't just take me away, its half way through the year. And- and- I have friends! Cooper, I have friends! And a life, and I am happy."

My heart sunk. No. Blaine could not leave, be taken away.

Blaine kicked his bed with the next reply from in the phone. "You have to be able to do something." His voice lost its anger, softening, "Please, if you really love me, you will stop this." With the last reply from the person on the phone Blaine collapsed on the bed limply. "Please Coop, I can't leave."

There was one last thing said on the other line."Okay, Bye." Blaine said, hanging up and dropping the phone on his mattress.

I didn't know if I should enter, so I stood at the door for a few minutes. Blaine didn't notice me, he just sat the blankly with his head in between his hands, quietly muttering something to himself.

I walked in slowly and placed my hand gently on his shoulder. Blaine jumped, but then froze, seeming almost relieved it was me. "How much of that did you hear?" He asked in a small voice.

"Just the end." I said softly, rubbed my hand up and down his back.

He had tears in his eyes for the second time in twenty-four hours, he ran his hand roughly through his hair, closing his eyes so that a droplet of salty liquid fell from his lashes. "My parents want me to switch schools, one of his coworkers had a gay son and sent him to this boarding school in Maine. Apparently he is "fixed" now." He grinded his teeth, "I hate him. I HATE HIM!" Blaine leapt up from the bed, grabbing the nearest thing and throwing at the wall.

I had never seen him like that, angry, absolutely fuming. He was always so disclosed about his emotions.

I wanted to calm Blaine down, I wanted to tell him it would be okay, but I was at a loss for words. How the hell would anyone want to change Blaine?

"Blaine." I stuttered out finally. "Its okay."

"No! Kurt I can't leave here, I can't, you guys are all I have."

"Blaine, its gonna be okay."

"This happens every time, I get something, and he takes it away."

"Its gonna be okay." I repeated.

"He took away my childhood, he took away my friends, he took away my hope....."

"Blaine please listen to me."

"Now he is taking away my right to be myself. God I thought maybe he would someday get better, actually accept me for who I was."

"Blaine, its gonna be okay."

"After Sadie Hawkins, when I got beat up, I was in a comma for almost three months, and you know what he told me? He told me I deserved it. Because I was gay." I froze. "All i want is to be happy." He barely whispered the last words, but they tore through my chest like a dagger.

I was crying, but I shrugged it off. I got up and took Blaine's hands, leading him over to the bed, laying him down. I laid down next to him, pulling the blankets over us. I put my arms around him, feelings like everything was breaking. I was breaking, my heart was breaking, in the tight custody of this boy.

"You will be happy." I declared. "Blaine Devon Anderson if I have to fly to the moon and back to make it be, I will do it to make you happy."

I held him tightly as he cried, using my roughly dismantled pieces to hold him together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate any comments or kudos. Hope to update before Saturday.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Kurts POV. Warning: Sad chapter, trigger warning.

Forty-five days before

I didn't want Christmas vacation to start.

I didn't want to leave Culver with the prospect I might not come back, I didn't even want to leave for the two week period, much less forever. Culver was my home, and I couldn't stand the prospect that perhaps I could never see it again.

A home is defined as a place you belong, a place where you feel safe and accepted. I didn't belong in Ohio, I didn't feel safe or accepted to any amount.

But I dreadfully boarded the plane with all the guys who were also going to Ohio for Christmas. And I sat down in the uncomfortable airplane seat, watching as my home grew smaller and smaller in the plane's taunting vision.  
........  
My mother came and picked me up form the airport about 30 minutes after my plane landed. We didn't talk, I just followed her out.

It was much different from the greeting than everyone else got. When we first walked off of the plane, all their parents, even Puck's mom, stood eagerly waiting with giant homemade signs spelling out things like 'welcome home' and 'we sure missed you'. It was very nice.

It was sad when they left.

I promised Kurt to call him and try to visit, but I did not think it was likely. I knew if I asked my parents to go to a boy's house they would say no, though I insist that he was just a friend. Even if they did agreement, the moment they saw Kurt all hell would break loose. Kurt was not slightly inconspicuous with his sexuality.

When my mother and I arrived at the house I went straight up to my former room. I didn't even look at my dad, the utter thought of him made me sick. I couldn't get angry, I couldn't lash out.

I had to prove to him that I was better.

I gazed at the crisp white walls, and the synthetic smell washed over me, filling me with an unadulterated sense of dread.

I remembered the days I spent here during the summer, those nights I spent wasting away in my bedroom. The horrible thoughts and loneliness that attempted to take my life. It was like I was standing my living nightmare.  
..........  
My parents and I sat at the dinner table, food laid out in gaudy crystal plates in front of us. There was an abrupt silence, the tenseness was at an unsurprising velocity. Forks and knifes clattered on our plates, making up the only noise in the immense house.

I felt so foreign, so clumsy and out of place.

"So, what are you going to do this Christmas break?" My mother asked, finally breaking the silence

 _Oh, just sit in this goddamn house all day long and feel miserable._  I wanted to retort.

"Maybe I'll do some studying." I replied instead.

"Hmm." She mutters, sticking her fork roughly in her pasta, twisting the noodles in awkward directions.

The silence continues until my mother speaks up again.

"Matthew, I think we should just tell him." She said, looking hastily at my father. He ran his hand over his bristly two-day-old beard, looking at his wife sternly, nodding his head.

I sat there in panic, _shit_ I thought, _they can't send me away, I refuse, I can't do this._

"Blaine, we have decided it would be best for you not to continue at Culver, and transfer to the school in Maine."

My insides twisted with anger, *this could not be happening.* I thought, *They cant, they just cant*. I imagined leaving Kurt, leaving my real family in Culver, going to that Maine school that could so called 'fix' me. I froze, feeling noise build in my ears, high pitched squeaking like steel being bent, and it finally snapped.

I leapt up from the table, throwing down my fork in anguish. " _YOU DON'T EVEN FUCKING KNOW ME_!" I yelled."You are my damn parents and I GUARANTEE that we have NEVER even had a 5 minute conversation that didn't end up in fighting! You are a sad excuse for people, you don't have the RIGHT to make decisions for me!"

My father stood up, almost knocking over the table in his hast. "DAMNIT, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND SIT DOWN! NOW!" He bellowed.

"NO!" I yelled back, "I have a life, and I have friends, and I feel safe at Culver. I am not going to let YOU ruin that!"

My father shook his head, "WHAT ABOUT A FAGGOT BOYFRIEND, I REFUSE TO LET MY SON DISGRACE THIS FAMILY!"

I smiled, all too calm, ready to hit as low as possible. He didn't want a gay son, I was going to be him just that.

"Too bad I love dick." I snarled, giving a full out smirk.

My fathers face was red as a tomato, his jaw set, he glanced at me up and down. "You need to be taught a lesson boy." His voice shook with anger. His hands clinched and forming fists as he approached.

I started to back away, I had went too far. I was scared, so goddamn scared. I backed off until I hit the wall, stumbling, looking up in fear. I heard my mother gasp behind me, and it took me a moment to register the hit.

He hit me straight in the nose, a thundering snap! Echoing through the room, my vision blurted. I placed a hand against the wall to keep my balance. "COWARD!" I screamed through the blood running down my face. He hit me again, harder, in the shoulder. I vaguely recollected the screaming of my mother in the background.

"I may be a coward, but your just a faggot, just like those boys marked you."

He struck me again, then picking me up from the ground, throwing me across the room like a limp rag doll. I hit the picture frame on the far wall, glass shattering and cutting deeply into my back. I screamed at the sudden shock of pain, barely managing to stand, staggering like a newborn horse.

He bashed me to the ground in an instant, I gasped as more shard of glass cut through my skin like butter. I clambered in my pockets for my phone, grasping the slick metal. I remember a thought coming to mind, the last time I saw Kurt at the air port.

"Bye Blaine, see you later." Kurt had said, giving me a wink, with his baby blue eyes shining, cheeks blushed from the wind.

The memory of him, the memory of a person who cared, and wanted me there, gave me strength I never thought I had.

I had to get out.

I stood up and pushed my father away, a shot of adrenaline racing through me. I stamped past him, running to the door and rushing out it. I ran, and ran, and ran. Until my legs ached, and the burst of adrenaline I had long then faded.

I collapsed on the ground, landing in a bed of wood chips, barely registering where I was. I needed help. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, landing on a familiar contact, then pressing call.  
..........  
** **KURTS POV** **  
It was in the middle of dinner I got the call.

My ringtone went off, Single Ladies of course, and my Dad shot me a look. I glanced down at the phone, Blaine's shining smile lighting up the screen.

"Its Blaine," I said, "can I just check if it isn't an emergency?" I asked innocently, simply wanting to talk to Blaine.

"Five minutes." My father agreed gruffly.

"Yes sir!" I said happily, jumping up and running into the living room for some privacy. I honestly didn't expect him to call so soon, it had been only 5 hours since leaving the airport and I was already having separation anxiety. I pressed the answer button, putting my ear happily up to the phone. "Hey Blaine!" I said.

I heard harsh breathing, immediately my mood changed. "Wait, are you okay?" I asked, confused at all the noise.

I heard a groan, "Kurt," he said breathily, "I didn't have anyone else to call."

I panicked. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

"I-I--" he stuttered, his voice was weak, "My dad hurt me." I heard a muffled sob at the end on the line.

I felt my knees get weak, I couldn't stand anymore, I sat down shakily on the couch."Where are you? I am coming to get you right now." I said rapidly, trying to slow the beating of my heart.

I needed to stay strong for him.

"At a park in Westerville--- I think Sidney park."

"Blaine, I'm coming to get you, don't worry, and try to stay warm."

"Okay." He managed weakly,"Kurt can you not hang up."

I flinched, damnit, "I have to tell my Dad where I am going, but I will call you back right after. I will be there in less than an hour."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Anything." I said.  
...........  
"Dad I have to go." I said, hurriedly putting on my coat, thinking for a second before grabbing one for Blaine.

He frowned, "What happened?"

Finn looked up from his food, "Is Blaine okay?"

"Blaine is hurt." I said thickly, "and I have to go get him, I will call you as soon as I arrive. You have to trust me."

My dad nodded, "Of course."  
..........  
The moment I got out of the car I felt like everything was in slow motion.

I ran to Blaine, he was laying on the ground underneath the monkey bars drenched in blood.

He sat up as I ran towards him, "Kurt." He said wearily."Kurt." he repeated, reaching for me like a wounded baby bird.

"Blaine." I said grittily, "we have to get to the hospital." I frantically lifted him up from the ground. He didn't weigh much, and quickly caught his balance.

"I can't go to the hospital." He said, distraught, "Please, Carole is a nurse just take me there." His eyes were quickly filling with tears, "Kurt, I can't."

I blinked away the wetness in my eyes, "Okay, I will just take you to my house." I said softly, taking his hand and leading him to the car.

I sat him in the passengers seat, wrapping him up in blankets we had in the back seat. He was freezing cold, and blood soaked the back of his T-shirt so I took it off. I forced myself to not look at it, ignoring the vivid smell of blood.

Once I had him wrapped up, I ran over to the other side and started driving. I was feasibly breaking speed limit, but I couldn't bring myself to give one shit.

He just had to be okay.

I just had to be okay.

I was shaking, and I felt Blaine take my hand. He held it with both of his, he was shaking too. He started crying and I held mine in. I felt like my guts had been vacuumed up, and spit back inside me all jumbled and messy.  
..........  
* ***BLAINE'S POV** **  
I sat in Kurt's car and held his hand in mine.

I couldn't imagine how I looked. If it was like anything I felt, I could infer it was definitely bad. My eye was already swollen shut, and the cuts on my back stung like someone had just taken a whip to it. My nose had stopped bleeding, and my whole body ached.

I felt so weak, so betrayed.

I didn't want to think about it, I just pushed it far back in the depths of my mind and held Kurt's hand. I focused on my breathing, on the external pain. The ride was long, or at least it felt like it. It was better than sitting alone in the park. Kurt finally slowed down, pulling into a small driveway in one of the suburban neighborhoods.

Kurt was over on my side of the car before I had a chance to unbuckle. He secured the blanket mass over my shoulders so they didn't drag the ground. Puck and Finn came rushing out of the house, helping me so I could walk. I tried to support myself, I hated being so weak.

I remember someone saying something, but I felt like my skull was full of sand, unable to comprehend the simplest of things. They finally got back into the house, I flinched away from the lights. Everything was blurry, distant and fuzzy, and it completely faded out.

I woke a second later in Pucks arms, "He passed out, he has lost a lot of blood!" He yelled to someone in the other room. Puck carried me to the kitchen table and set me down on a pallet of blankets, I whimpered as the pressure was applied to my back. Carole shouted something at him, and he turned me on my stomach, everything fading in and out of focused with blood loss.

Carole started instantly working on my back, dabbing it with water so it didn't get infected. I cringed and buried my head in the blankets, the slight pressure made in burn dreadfully. "Its okay sweety, it will make it feel better." Carole said softly. That made me flinch too, it was all too familiar to the nurses in the last hospital I stayed in during my coma.

Everyone else had left so Carole could work, and I could hear them whispering in the living room. Carole was a quick worker, and it was already beginning to feel better, she put on some sort of medicine and started to wrap up my torso in gauze. Kurt came in when she was finishing, taking my hand in his on instinct. "Need any help?" He asked Carole.

She nodded, "Just help me turn him over." Kurt nodded back, letting go of my hand. I tried to help them, but I was no use, Kurt and Carole managed to do it on their own. I landed harshly on my back, giving out a startled cry. I clenched my fists around the edge of the table.

I heard Carole gasp, and I recollected how exposed my scar was. Words rattled in my head '...... _your just a faggot, just like those boys marked you_.....'. I shivered, closing my eyes.

I wanted it to go away, I wanted everything to go away.

I tried taking a deep breath, I tried to imagine Kurt holding me, and that everything would be okay but nothing helped.

I sucked into my pit of depression, falling and screaming as it pulled my under. I felt so helpless, telling it to just go away, goddamnit I didn't want to hurt anymore! I was so fucking tired of hurting. I was tired of trying, I was tired of pretending, I was tired of playing this part of a naive schoolboy. I was a fucking shattered, I was broken, I was torn and cracked and absurdly worthless. Kurt grabbed my arms, trying to hold me down as I threw my fit. "Blaine calm down!" He yelled.

I vaguely remember Puck coming in and keeping me from hurting myself. I couldn't stop screaming, everything hurt, I was hysterical. I felt like I was going insane. I kept thinking _they will never love me_ and _I am broken_. I finally stopped screaming, and started crying, muttering my thoughts helplessly.

I didn't know when Puck got off me, I was lost. Visions were flooding my mind, I couldn't think straight.

They were of Sadie Hawkins, and the night I came out. They were of my lonely summer nights I was left holding the blade and all the friends that abandoned me. The night Matthew raped me. It was of those 3 ruthless months I spent in the dreadful hospital. And tonight, where I once and for all lost my family.

I don't know when I stopped, I think around 3 or something, I couldn't truly even tell you my middle name at that moment. Kurt was still there, holding my hand. All my injuries were treated except my face because I guess Carole saw no use with me crying.

His hand slide down my arm, over my wrist to grab my hand and kiss it. "It just hurts." I muttered.

Kurt shook his head, "It will get better. I promise, I will do anything to help it get better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll update Tuesday or Wednesday, the next chapter I have planned out so it should be quick. Comments and Kudos are always encouraging.


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